Holding up a Mirror

“TIMEOUT!” Jack yells at his bear.  He plops him with force down on the corner of the bed.  I snicker into my sleeve.  He does a pretty good Stern Mommy Voice.

“TIMEOUT!” he yells at Liam, and I put my face in his face and say “NO.  Only Mommy gives timeouts.  No,” but actually I’m working hard to hold back a guffaw.

“VIRGIL!  GEDDOWN!  HUSH VIRGIL!” and I have to say, again, “Only Mommy yells at Virgil,” though I wonder if perhaps Mommy yells at Virgil too much.

“GROSS” he says, long and drawn out, sounds like GWOOOOOOOOSSSSS, and I turn to see that Liam has urped all over himself.  “Groooossss,” I say back, dabbing the baby’s chin.

“Lie Down!” he yells at his dad, and pats the pillow next to him.  “Go nigh nigh!  Right now!”

“Read Story, baby?” and he holds the book out, facing his brother, so Liam can see the pictures.

“Hi baby!  Want juice?  Want to hold it?  Juice, baby?” Jack’s voice is high and soft and sweet. He hands Liam the sippy cup, and when the baby declines to hold it, Jack gently dabs the drool off of his face.  Sometimes when Liam is crying, Jack will go find a pacifier and hold it in Liam’s mouth, making soft cooing noises at him all the while.  The other day we were all in the car, and Liam was wailing, and Jack said “no cry, baby, no cry” and reached over and held his hand the rest of the way home.

“Love you,” he says at night now.

Love you, too, buddy.